Mr. Wallace and Me
By Robin O.
Part 14:
Father Kincaid looked up from his Bible as I stood there, my wrists restrained behind me by the handcuffs over my long, white gloves, my gorgeous gown revealing so much of my bare skin, my earrings jingling gently, my mind a maze of thoughts. This horrible, old priest whom I hated more than anyone I had ever met had taken me, robbed me of my resistance, my dignity. His thick, old cock had spewed its sperm in my bottom and I had tasted it in my mouth. His gnarled, spotted, old hands had been all over my young, smooth body over and over again. His tongue had been in my mouth ... and I had surrendered to him and even kissed him back.
And Mom!
Was it true that she had been unfaithful to Dad? That Dad was as poorly endowed as I am? That my sweet, lovely mother stays after church and sucks Father Kincaid's ugly, thick cock? That she debases herself with this horny, gnarly priest, coming back again and again for so many years so he can fuck her, kiss her, rub his vile hands all over her?
How could Mom have let Father Kincaid baptize me after ... after ....? Was Father Kincaid my father? Had I just been fucked by my father? Had I just been kissing my father and sucking his cock?
Now, I just stood there in my gown, barely cognizant of the conversation between the officer and Father Kincaid.
"Father, you're saying this young lady has had a religious experience ... in an hour and a half? I don't believe it. Look at her, she's beautiful, sure, but she's not even listening to a word you're saying. You have to press charges. She stole from you. I've heard you many times in church, father. 'Thou shalt not steal.' What about that, father?"
Father Kincaid sat back contentedly and tapped on his Bible.
"The good book also preaches mercy, Timothy, and redemption. I believe the young lady has seen the light."
"But Father ..."
"My mind is made up, Timothy."
"Father, you know that I don't need you to testify. I saw your cross in the young lady's purse," the officer said. "I have just cause on my own to arrest her. But the case would be a whole lot stronger with your testimony."
Father Kincaid smiled, more of a smirk than anything else as his eyes looked me up and down.
"Timothy, the girl comes from a good family," he said. "I know her mother ... quite well. Perhaps I shall have mother and daughter in for some counseling ... at the same time."
I blankly looked at the grinning priest and shuddered, a chill going down my bare shoulders and back. The evil priest was imagining a threesome with Mom and me!
"All right, Father, if your mind is made up," said the officer, looking at me and shaking his head in disgust. "I still think there's a right and a wrong, and this girl should be in jail, but I'll take her back to her car."
Father Kincaid gave me a knowing look at the officer wrapped my shawl over my shoulders and picked up my purse.
"I've got the key to the handcuffs in my squad car, Father," the officer said. "You should get some sleep. You look like you've had a long day."
"Thank you, Timothy, you're a good man and a good cop," said Father Kincaid. "I'll see you and the family in church this Sunday. And Billie, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again ... soon."
Even with my hazy brain, I could still detect Father Kincaid's smug leer as he undressed me with his eyes one more time as the officer led me out the door into the cold, dark night.
We walked in silence, both the officer's hands making sure the shawl stayed on on my shoulders and back. My mind was totally numb as we reached the police car. I could see the florid face of the 50-something policeman and his breath cloud in the cold air as he opened the back door to the car and guided me inside. My shawl fell away as I shimmied to sit with the handcuffs still holding my wrists behind me. If I had been thinking more clearly, I probably would have been concerned when the policeman sidled in next to me and closed the car door.
"You may have fooled the old priest," he said, his hands fumbling at his waist in the darkness of the car as he momentarily rose up a few inches. "But you don't fool me for a minute, girly. You're nothing but a petty criminal."
His right hand grabbed the back of my neck and roughly forced my face down onto his bare lap. In the dark, I could barely see his pants and gun belt down on his calves just before my face made contact with his crotch.
"Put that cock into your mouth, girly," he ordered, his steely grip on the back of my neck.
I almost laughed.
"Of course," I thought through my haze. "A law-and-order policeman, a churchgoing family man, just another horny, old hypocrite who wants his cock sucked."
I opened my mouth and took his slender, barely erect penis into it, sucking it mechanically, without passion or revulsion. My willpower had been sapped by my ordeal with Father Kincaid, my thoughts haunted by what I had been told by the evil priest, and what he had done to me.
The officer's hands moved to my bare back and shoulders, caressing them over and over as I moved up and down on his smelly prick.
"You're so damned beautiful. Your skin feels so fucking good," he said, his rough hands squeezing my shoulders. "My wife won't do this for me, and besides, she doesn't have your body."
He lay his head back and moaned, both his hands moving down my back down to my narrow waist as, my mind an almost complete blank, I sucked on his growing half-century-old organ. After several minutes, he moved my legs up onto the car seat, my dress skirt riding up. His right hand moved up the back of my slender thighs until he felt my bare bottom in the dark.
"Oh yes," he said as his rough hands ran over my smooth, tight bottom. "So much better than my wife's fat ass."
My dignity and self-respect drained from me, I continued sucking the cop, my little penis rubbing against the fabric of the car seat. My mind was a melancholy blur, and then it happened.
THWACK!
What?
THWACK! THWACK!
The bastard spanked me!
THWACK! Harder this time. My mind was wide awake now. I pulled my head off his prick and cried out.
"OW! Don't do that!" I cried. "That hurts!"
THWACK!
"It's supposed to hurt, girlie," he said. "Now, put that cock back into your mouth like a good girl."
I was wide awake now, and my little bottom was tingling.
THWACK! THWACK!
I was writhing now, twisting my slender body, my arms helplessly behind me. I couldn't see anything in the dark car.
THWACK!
"Please ... don't do that," I moaned, tears in my eyes.
But the old cop was getting more turned on. His left hand crossed to the back of my neck, two fingers moving under my halter top, forcing my head back down. I took his cock into my mouth, hoping that he would stop spanking me. His right hand gently caressed my reddened, pulsating bottom where he had hit me.
I sighed around his cock in my mouth, wanting this all to be over. I didn't know what he would do if he found out I wasn't a girl.
THWACK!
That was the hardest spank yet.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
I felt so helpless, so in the power of another man who could do what he wanted with me.
THWACK!
It really didn't hurt anymore. It stung, but felt kind of ... erotic.
"Suck that prick, you beautiful cocksucker," he ordered.
I did what he wanted, this time moaning, not just in pain, but ... desire.
THWACK!
"Mmmmm," I murmured, sucking his old cock harder. My little penis was hard, rubbing against the car seat. The cop's left hand, no longer needed to keep my mouth on his prick, was rubbing my bare back as I writhed sensually.
I waited for the next slap ... and waited ...
I wanted it. I needed it.
"Please?" I whimpered, pausing at the top of his foreskin.
The cop's voice was cruel and cold.
"Please ... what?"
"Please ... spank me again ... one more time ... Please?"
I had lost all dignity, but I was past caring. The cop was getting close to cumming ... and so was I. I couldn't see him in the dark, even if I was facing him, but I was sure he was smiling. His voice was mocking.
"Please spank me again one more time, please ... what?"
I was crying now, out of frustration and shame.
"Please spank me again one more time, please ... sir."
THWACK!
With that, I took the old man's prick deep into my throat as my little penis came all over the car seat. I gagged and choked as the officer's tart cum flooded my little mouth. There was so much milky cum. I let it ooze out of my mouth. He grabbed my bare shoulders with both his hands and bent over to kiss and bite my back and neck. He was breathing very hard now and making horrid grunts and other noises, totally enveloped in his own pleasure as his cock ejaculated one last bit of sperm onto my tongue. Finally, he breathed out and spoke.
"Ahhhhh .... I needed that. Now, you be a good girl and lick up all my cum, little lady," he said.
As I did what he wanted, he almost gentlemanly placed my skirt gently back over my throbbing bottom.
Finally, he pulled my torso up to a sitting position and put his left arm around my bare shoulders. My bottom stung.
"What happened to your panties, girlie?" he asked.
I didn't answer. I didn't think he would believe me if I told him they were in Father Kincaid's drawer, probably joining several pair of my mother's.
"You're still an arrogant bitch," he said, getting out of the car and pulling me out and onto my feet, my dress covering my sore bottom. He threw my shawl and purse at my feet, pulled up his pants, dug into a pocket and removed the key to the handcuffs that had been there all along. He unlocked the cuffs, and my arms were finally free.
"I should just run you in and have you spend some time in jail," he said self-righteously, "but give me a kiss and I'll let you go."
The arrogant jerk had insulted me all night, claimed to be a religious family man, spanked me and made me suck his cock. And now, his hands around my tight waist, he wanted me to kiss him in the dark church parking lot.
I didn't see where I had much choice. He pulled me to him, and not knowing what to do with my arms, I crossed them around his neck as he kissed me. His rough hands migrated to my bare back as his tongue explored my young mouth.
After a long, wet kiss, then another one, he released me.
"You behave yourself, young lady," he said with a leer, giving a final swat at my now-clothed bottom as I turned toward my mom's car, "or I'll be seeing you again ... soon."
And then, he hopped back into his squad car and drove off. I wondered what he would think whenever it was he discovered my cum in the back seat.
Meanwhile, I was alone in the dark, cold church parking lot. Goosebumps on my bare arms and shoulders, I looked up, and there in a lighted third-floor window of the rectory, I saw the smiling face of Father Kincaid sipping a glass of wine. He had obviously seen the officer kiss me and me return the kiss. He could probably surmise what had occurred in the police car.
I froze in surprise and shame. The priest's smile grew broader, and he raised his wine glass in a mock salute.
I felt like I was going to pass out. I reached down for my shawl and purse, and managed to take out the car keys. I opened the door, and before entering the car, couldn't resist looking back at the window. The room was dark. I couldn't see Father Kincaid anymore.
But I sensed he was still there ... looking at me.
I got into my mom's car, winced as my tender bottom settled into the seat, turned the key and drove away.
End of Part 14. (To be continued.)
Part 15:
The car was cold, needing some time before the heater would warm things up inside. My eyes moist, I looked at the traffic lights in a dull, glassy manner, the memories of this night more than any 18-year-old should have to process. It had all gone according to plan ... until I returned to the church parking lot and the clutches of that sinister Father Kincaid. I could never look at Mom, or for that matter, Dad, the same way again. It was probably a good thing that Mr. Drummond had invited me to move to Chicago, but are more nights like this the fate I am walking into? Was it going to be worth changing my body with hormones and dressing as a woman full-time, only to be taken advantage of by the mysterious client Mr. Drummond wants me to meet and who knows other men?
Almost without thinking about it, I drove to the same 24-hour diner where I had changed into my boy clothes after being with Gary, the convenience store clerk who had been the first to restrain my wrists. I didn't bother with my shawl. I just grabbed my purse, popped the trunk and removed the gym bag with my boy clothes in it and walked into the diner. It was then that I realized I was famished. My tight stomach was doing flip-flops, and I needed a bowl of soup.
It was late, so there weren't a lot of people in the diner: a few older couples sitting in booths, five or six men seated at the counter watching a sports show on the TV, two couples -- they looked like college students -- at a table being loud and obnoxious, and a young man, probably another college student, at a nearby table trying to study. I was led by the hostess to a table around the corner from the college students.
My mind still a blur, I ordered a bowl of minestrone soup. It tasted so good that I ordered another. I finished that bowl, and the waitress brought me the check. I was starting to feel a little better, but I was still so troubled about what might lie ahead of me in the future. Do girls always feel as worthless as I do now?
My reverie was interrupted by the four loud college students, who probably had too much to drink earlier in the evening. They were teasing the young man who was trying to study. I couldn't see them, but I could hear them.
"What's the matter, Howard?" teased one of the girls. "Couldn't get a date ... again?"
One of the young men laughed and chimed in:
"Don't bother Howard," he jeered, "He's sitting there with all his friends."
The young men at the table guffawed, and the girls giggled. I leaned over and peeked around the corner. "Howard," a slender young man with glasses, was trying to ignore the taunts, but his face was turning red.
"Howard," said the other girl, "how come we never see you with a date? Are you gay? Or are you just ... you know .. tiny ... down there?"
They roared at that, and I could see that Howard was trying to ignore the taunting but was getting very upset, The teasing continued unabated for the next few minutes, and I don't know why I did it, but I left a tip on the table, grabbed my check, got up, adjusted my gown and long, white gloves, picked up my gym bag, walked around the corner and looked at Howard, who was probably about three years older than me.
"Howard?" I said. "Is that you, Howard?"
Howard looked up at me in utter surprise. He had no idea who the stunning woman in the halter gown could be. At the nearby table, the young men gaped at me and the girls just stared, their mouths open.
"Howard, don't tell me you don't remember me," I said with a cute pout as I put down my purse and gym bag. "Those nights in that motel room spoiled me for all other men."
Howard's face was all confused as he stumbled to his feet and adjusted his glasses. I walked over to him, crossed my arms around his neck and leaned back.
"Howard," I said, my eyes looking longingly into his, "I know I'm not as beautiful as those other girls you've been with, but didn't that weekend mean anything?"
With that, I leaned forward and kissed him, oozing my body into his as his hands didn't know what to do. I made sure the kiss lasted a long time, with me making little mewing, moaning noises. The young men's eyes were glued to my undulating, bare back, undoubtedly wishing they could be in Howard's place. When our lips finally parted, I femininely took his hand.
"Walk me to the cashier, will you, darling?" I said loud enough for those at the other table to hear.
I glanced over my bare shoulder and saw the stunned young people staring at us as we walked toward the cashier. The girls' eyes were wide and puzzled. The looks of the young men I recognized easily. I had seen lust before.
I took Howard aside near the cashier, in full view but out of earshot of those who had teased him. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.
"Lady," he said, his voice shaky, "I think you must have me mixed up with someone else."
"No, Howard," I said, moving my hands against his chest. "I just don't like to see anyone teased like those jerks were teasing you. Now, put your arms around me, like you own me.
He hesitated.
"C'mon," I said with a smile, "do it."
He clumsily put his hands on my bare back as I kissed him.
"C'mon ..." I said, "like you own me."
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Soon, his hands grew more confident, moving all over my bare skin, then down to my bottom, which he squeezed with both hands. It hurt because of the spanking I had received from the policeman, especially when Howard lifted me off my feet in his enthusiasm. His tongue tentatively tried to enter my mouth. I let it in and our tongues meshed in a slow, sensual way. Once he got the hang of it, he wasn't a bad kisser, not bad at all. I peeked over his shoulder. We had the full attention of the two couples at the table, and the men at the counter seemed to find us interesting, too. When our bodies parted, there was a definite bulge in Howard's pants. I cupped Howard's cheek with my right hand and looked up into his eyes.
"Now, Howard," I said, "don't ever let mean people like that bother you again. Find yourself a nice girl. Meanwhile, I don't think anyone is going to tease you again after word of this gets around."
I gave him one last sensual kiss and was rewarded with a grateful smile. He was a nice guy. He walked back to the table, ignoring the stares from the adjoining table, and with a confident smile resumed his studies.
I paid my check, picked up my gym bag and turned to go into the ladies room to change my clothes. In my path was one of the obnoxious girls.
"Um, excuse me," she said. She was slender and probably would have been pretty if she wasn't wearing so much makeup.
"I was just wondering," she said. "Howard is a friend of yours?"
I just smiled and nodded.
"I couldn't help overhearing," she said tentatively. "You spent a weekend with him?"
"The best weekend of my life," I said. "If you must know, he's the best lover I've ever had, by far. Not only is he amazingly endowed ... I mean huge! But he's also the most accomplished, intuitive, incredibly sexual man I've ever been with. He's so caught up in his studies, he doesn't have much time for me or any of the other women who want to be with him. Why do you ask? Is he a friend of yours, too? Don't be jealous, sweetie. Howard is too much man for just one girl."
The girl stammered and thanked me. I could see in her face that she was thinking about perhaps checking out Howard's sexual prowess for herself. I hoped he would turn her down if she did. He deserves a nicer person.
I excused myself and went into the one-person ladies room, where I took my time washing the makeup from my face, putting my hair into its customary ponytail and changing into my male clothes. When I emerged as the nondescript male that I was, the four rude young people had gone. Howard was still at his table, drinking coffee and studying.
I quickly left the diner and got into Mom's car. As I drove off, I found myself smiling.
"I guess," I said to myself, "that being beautiful can be a good thing. I may have just changed a man's whole life in a positive way."
I found myself looking forward to Chicago, and becoming the best woman I could be.
End of Part 15. (To be continued.)